


Are You My Stand Partner?

by Syphus



Category: Classmates - Fandom, Original Work, Real Person Fiction
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, Gay, High School, I am so sorry, I hope they never find this, M/M, Orchestra, RPF, What Have I Done, real life characters, secretly i want them to, these are my actual classmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syphus/pseuds/Syphus
Summary: It's Shamar's senior year of high school and this new kid who isn't actually new is now his stand partner.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so these are actual kids from my high school and a friend of mine and i ship them so much so now i'm writing fanfic of them
> 
> (my teachers' names are changed, cause i think it's a crime to do this to adults eexceeept it's done all the time to celebrities so probably not??? i dunno, i changed their names anyways)
> 
> guys, if you ever find this, please message me but for now this will probably stay in the depths of the internet for all of eternity
> 
> also you don't need to know orchestra terms to understand this since music isn't the emphasis of the storyline

It was just before rehearsal, when most everyone was unpacking their instruments and setting up sheet music. Shamar was already in his seat in the second violin section, earbuds in, thinking about what homework from his first block he could choose not to do. The volume was high, playing Outkast’s Hey Ya! and he was lightly bobbing his head to the music when he heard a sharp pop and the earbuds were gone. Shamar looked up from his reverie into a pair of dark brown, questioning eyes. “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Sorry, your music was just really loud and I was trying to talk to you and- yeah.”

“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?” He paused his music and wrapped up the earbuds, shoving them into his pocket.

“I’m Fidel, your stand partner, I think. Right?”

“Uh, probably. My name’s Shamar.” The other boy sat down to his right, placing his violin in his lap and the bow on their shared stand. An awkward silence passed between them as a few stragglers got to their seats and conversations bubbled around the room. “So… Fidel, was it? How long’ve you been playing?”

The other boy startled slightly at the question, immediately blushing at his mistake. “Since sixth grade, so six years.”

“You’re a senior, too?” This was the philharmonic orchestra into which eleventh graders were automatically placed. Even so, freshman and sophomores could audition to get in and seniors could opt to not be put into the twelfth grade orchestra.

“Yeah, actually, I am. Excited to graduate finally.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one. Did you transfer this year?”

Fidel shook his head, “No, I’ve been here since freshman year. There are a lot of kids in this class though, so I’m not surprised we haven’t run into each other.” Even so, an embarrassed silence permeated the air, only somewhat interrupted by Ms. Anlo starting rehearsal. It was the second week of school and their orchestra was only beginning to sight read today, which was why the two boys hadn’t met yet.

“Let’s start with Faure’s ‘Dolly Suite’.” Ms. Anlo called, and a shuffle of papers ensued, only stopping when she raised her arms to conduct. The following sounds were a train wreck, and each stop to get back on track was filled with smothered laughter and variations of, “that sounded horrible.”

At some point, when Ms. Anlo was talking to the cellos, Fidel leaned over to Shamar to whisper, “This piece is way too slow. I hope we increase the tempo soon.” Now, Shamar had never defined himself as gay or even admitted to being attracted to the opposite sex, but at that moment, Fidel’s scent of wood and maybe berries filled him and he had to question his dick’s thoughts very thoroughly.

“Y-yeah, hopefully soon.” They started playing again and weren’t given very many breaks until the end of rehearsal.

“Practice measures sixty through seventy-two for the next ten minutes, then pack up.” Ms. Anlo ordered, then left the main room to the connected office, leaving the door open. Of course, most kids didn’t practice, choosing instead to strike up conversations with their new stand partners or bury themselves in a phone. Shamar half-heartedly plucked his violin, as he thought of ways to get this kid’s number.

“Hey, Fidel, how would you play this measure?” It was a noticeably weak attempt at conversation, but Shamar was lost for ideas.

“Oh, uh, I’d use fourth finger E to take out the string crossing.” Shamar nodded, plucking it in that way to make it seem like he cared a little. “So, how about you? When did you start playing?” He stopped plucking and used this moment as an excuse to study the other boy.

“I actually played the cello for a year in middle school, but switched to violin in seventh grade ‘cause I got tired of dragging it around.” He tried matching Fidel’s eyes to something- dark chocolate? Coffee? He didn’t know enough dark colored things to match. Actually, everything about him was kind of dark. Black hair, tan skin, and those eyes. Even so, it didn’t make him seem like a bad person, but more generally attractive, especially with his somewhat muscular arms and short stature.

“That’s cool. I’ve always thought cello players were hot- I mean, uh, the cellos. The cellos are hot. I- what? Yeah, let’s go with that. Cellos are hot.” Shamar laughed, easing Fidel’s distress until he, too, was smiling.

They packed up, storing their instruments in the storage room across from Ms. Anlo’s and Dr. Scalls’ shared office. The two met again at their stands to get their backpacks and, in a moment of courage, Shamar asked “Can I get your number?” -very short lived courage- “Uh… if that’s okay with you, I know we just met, but-”

Fidel stuck an unlocked cellphone in his hands, the "New Contact" screen opened. “Yeah, I’d like to talk more.”

He grasped the phone and began typing, but stopped half way through. “Dude, you have an iPhone? I dunno if I can be friends with an Apple supporter.”

Fidel smiled, “Fuck yeah, I have an iPhone! Androids are confusing as fuck, and I don’t know much else on the market.”

Laughter made it harder to type, but Shamar finished submitting his contact info and returned the phone. “I’m gonna have to expose you to the fearsome ways of the Android sometime.”

“I’ll try to act impressed.”

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe me if i said i actually had to look up the add contact screen for iphones
> 
> i promise this isn't a phone-centralized fic
> 
> sorry again


End file.
